


Smack!

by hammerandfickle



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Banter masquerading as porn, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hammerandfickle/pseuds/hammerandfickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Garak will not play interrogator in the bedroom, and Walter Benjamin is misinterpreted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smack!

Elim Garak moaned at Bashir's throat. The kiss had started gently, and now their hands were traveling methodically up each others' torsos; a stroke here, a light squeeze here. Bashir grasped Garak tighter and walked him to the wall for something to brace against. This precaution in place (and Bashir's arousal growing from the Cardassian's touch), he picked up the pace and allowed himself to rut against Garak's stomach, while gently caressing the man's neck. With his other hand he brought a hard spank to Garak's bottom.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Mmm... For turning me on so bloody well.”

“No, Julian,” Garak pushed him away. “You hit me. Why did you hit me?”

“It's just a little spank. I find it rather sexy.”

“Well _I_ find it rather violent.”

“It can be both then.” Julian shrugged. “It's not as if Cardassians shy away from violence.”

“No it can't be. If violence is sexualized it loses its effectiveness. Violence is a tool to serve the state, and as such should be the express domain of the state. There is nothing 'sexy' about it, nor should it have a place in personal relationships.”

“Wow Garak.” Julian said dryly. “If I didn't know better I'd think you'd been reading Walter Benjamin.”

Garak stopped his tirade and tilted his head in that reserved way that only comes out when his emotions run high.

“Who?”

“Walter Benjamin. An old German scholar. According to him the state is defined by a monopoly over violence in a given area.”

“And I suppose it's a German trait to confuse an attribute for a definition?”

“Well unlike you, _Elim_ , he actually dares to take a critical stance of the state apparatus.”

“Says the Starfleet officer!”

Bashir glowered.

“A medical officer. I save lives. Anyway, I'm not going to let you get me off track. It's not uncommon for humans to enjoy a mild amount of ephemeral pain during sexual encounters. It simply... varies up the stimulation. I'm not even trying anything kinky on you.”

“Kinky, Doctor?”

“It means – nevermind. The point is, at the risk of confusing attribute with definition, violence requires intent of harm, and I have no intention of harming you. At all. I won't hit you again Garak, if you don't want me to, but... ” Suddenly Bashir grinned widely.

“But what?”

Bashir didn't reply. Instead he took off his pants and lay down on the bed, bare ass in the air. Looking sideways at Garak, still with that infuriating grin on his face, he said, “Elim, my darling Garak, would you please smack my bum.”

Garak sighed.

“Julian, my dear Doctor, I will not lay so much as a scale on you until you quit this ridiculous posturing.”

“Oh but it's an enticing posture and I'm in such need of discipline...”

“NO!” Garak's outburst broke Bashir's husky rambling and collapsed his body face down onto the bed. He wasn't even hard anymore, and he seemed to have breached some boundary. He hated this stage of a relationship, when one still has to work out the boundaries. He and Garak had been sleeping together for over two months and still Bashir was constantly misstepping. He sighed into his pillow. Such was the trouble, perhaps, with interspecies relationships, or more likely with his own damn smugness. No DNA re-coding could help his (lack of) cultural perceptiveness or empathy.

Suddenly Bashir felt a hand on his right thigh, gently making its way up to his – oh yes, there it was, a hand on each cheek and – oh! – a tongue joining in between them. It felt rough against Bashir's asshole. A rough texture, but gentle motions. Garak's tongue was hot, and his fingers were almost unbearably cold as they probed inside him. A finger on the other hand dragged along Bashir's skin from anus to scrotum, cupping him lightly.

“Julian,” Garak said between laps. “If your people can't get enough pleasure from pleasure alone, and cannot 'make love', as you put it, simply with loving gestures, you are either a decrepit species or have no imagination.”

 

FIN

 


End file.
